Rush Hour
by livyceegee
Summary: Set in series one, inspired by the Ghost Machine. Just a little non-canon sidestory...When the Ghost Machine falls into the hands of an actual ghost of a dead girl, said ghost needs a live person to help her get what she wants...


"Some things are never meant to be discovered, you know." says a slightly musical, singsong voice from in front of me.

I'm sat on the floor of a vast, empty room. Expanses ofbleached wood floorboards extend to the horizon of my vision all around me, seemingly the only feature of the emptiness. The echo of the voice rings around the room, remaining for a few moments before fading away.

I blink blearily, and as I regain my vision I let out a yell and skitter backwards, snagging my shoelaces on a loose nail that seems to be the only decoration in this totally featureless room. I cough, embarassed, and shuffle forward again to unhook my laces, then look up again.

There's a little girl stood there, only about six or seven. From a distance, she has pale eyes, an unusual shade of washed-out bluey grey that seems to swallow up her pupils, framed by thick lashes. Her skin, too, is eerily pale at first glance, an almost translucent shade. Her hair, which falls down to her shoulders in a neatly cut bob, is almost a white-blonde, seeming to have streaks of pale ginger mixed in. She's dressed in old-fashioned clothes, and looks like something out of a book about evacuees in World War Two.

But that's not what scared me. She could have been pretty, if it wasn't for the dark circles under her eyes and the smears of blood coating almost every inch of her pastel-pale skin. As I look closer, the ginger streaks in her hair turn out to be blood, too, matting it together. There's wicked-looking bruises all over her arms, and one hand seems to be grotesquely flattened. I don't look any closer. I don't want to look any closer.

Instead, I focus on what she's holding. In one hand is a skipping rope. In the other, a black device with white lights on it.

She catches me staring. "Like this thing." she continues, because there's no doubt the voice I heard came from her. She's the only other person in the room. She gestures to a bench that seems to have materialised behind me, and I get to my feet and sit down, glancing around myself nervously.

Why am I even here?

The thought slides into my mind without prompting, so much so that I doubt I even thought it. I try to recall the events leading up to this point, and fragments of memory rush in on me.

Watching trains rush past at a station. A cold chill passing through the stone tunnels of the London Underground. A couple of kids pushing each other around on the side of the platform. One of them had been dangerously close to slipping over the edge, her dark hair lifting in the slight breeze and her arms windmilling to try and regain her balance. A bright flash of light -

I'm jerked back to reality to see the little girl staring down at me. I say nothing, not sure what to say. She waits patiently, but when I do open my mouth to speak, she interrupts, waving the black device in the air. "They call it the Ghost Machine. Have a look. It's quite interesting, what it does. But you have to try it yourself to understand the full effects. Don't worry if you can't make it work at first. It took me rather a while, too."

She offers me the device, and I take it, pondering the name. I turn it over in my hands slowly, until I find a section that slots inwards if you push it.

The little girl's face lights up. "That's it! Just try it. I promise you, nothing bad will happen. Go on. Try it."

Too confused to do anything else, I do. I move my fingers slightly, and there's a click as the little square of material that's somewhere between plastic and steel slides inwards and -

-And then the girl's gone, and I'm at a train station. It's full of parents, with children dressed just like the little girl was, except with a lot less blood. The station is also full of words - goodbye's, I love you's, and I'll miss you's echo around me. But it's like I'm listening in from the other side of a window. Like I'm not really there.

Suddenly to my left there's a piercing whistle, and a yell. _All right, all right! You can write letters!We have to go! On the train, mind the gap..._

A tall man starts to gather the children together, and slowly they file on to the train. One girl, bearing an odd resembalance to the bloodied girl I saw before, breaks off from the group, speeding down the edge of the platform, yelling a name which I can only guess is her mother's as the train starts to pull forward. She's almost down the other end of the platform now.

I see it coming before it happens, but am unable to move, frozen to the spot. As I watch, the girl trips over the skipping rope she's holding in one hand and she tumbles onto the tracks. I open my mouth to scream out a warning, but it's too late. People on the platform start to shout and run over. One woman - who I guess is her mother - starts to scream a name, which I can't distinguish from the rest of the yells.

I see a pale hand reach up and grip the edge of the platform and then the train rockets past, straight over the portion of tracks that the girl was on, obscuring my view. Although I'm not sure I want to know what's left of the girl. As the train slows to a stop and kids stream out to see what's going on I turn away, eyes shut. I know that's the last time anyone ever saw that girl.

Alive, at least.

The scene around me fades, and I find myself back in the white-floored room. The dead girl smiles down at me.

"An interesting experience, wasn't it?" she chirps, surprisingly cheerful to say she's dead. Or maybe I'm just slightly horrified, and so find any attempt at happiness odd. She blinks down at me when I remain silent. "What?"

I just shake my head silently. She nods, as if realising something for the first time. "Yes." she says. "I found it rather odd, too. Watching back my own death. But morbidly fascinating, too."

Her language surprises me slightly. Her words are wise beyond her years, or at least, the years she appears to have. "What's your name?" I ask, the first words I've spoken to her.

She beams. "Nobody's ever asked me that before! You know, after all this time, I've had seven different people in here. None of them have ever bothered to ask what I'm called...I'm Melody, to answer your question."

's not name that I would give a small, bloodstained girl, but it's obviously hers, so I don't comment. "Why am I-" I begin, but she cuts me off, looking surprised suddenly, her blue-grey eyes widening.

"No time, there's no time!" Melody sings, spinning in a circle. Her bloodsoaked, ripped pinnafore fans out slightly, and she suddenly halts in a jerky motion. She yanks her cap back on her head, and I notice it's surprisingly unharmed compared to the rest of her. "No time! Just remember what you saw. Think fast. Remember the Ghost Machine..."

The white floorboards beneath my feet begin to blend together into tiles and concrete. I realise what's happening, and call out to Melody. She smiles sadly at me, waves, and vanishes.

Suddenly, I'm back in the concrete tunnels of the Tube. A glance up at the electronic train-time boards tells me that it's Saturday evening, and the time tells me it's rush hour. I blink hard, and take in the bright, underground strip lights and advertisements lining the walls, momentarily dazed.

"Hey! Kid! Outta the way!" says an annoyed voice from beside me. I instinctivley step sideways, almost stepping into a woman with an old-fashioned pram. She glares at me balefully, then manouvers the pram around me and continues on her way, fading back into the crowd. I briefly wonder why anyone would bring a pram down on the Underground, especially when it's rush hour. The amount of people on the train makes taking anything as large and bulky as a pram down a bad idea, not to mention completely impractical.

"No, not you." snaps the voice. I look up, and it's a man with a London Underground map, scowling at the kids messing around on the edge of the platform. He's wearing a long trench coat that's almost military, and looks out of place among the more modern-looking Londoners. There's a soft whooshing noise as I hear the train start to approach. The man makes an impatient sound, and tilts his head to indicate a group of kids, about my age, playing around on the edge of the platform. One girl , wearing a long, chunky dark green jumper that reaches her knees over black leggings, steps dangerously close to the edge, and spreads her arms to regain her balance. Her dark hair lifts slightly in the breeze, and I'm hit by deja vu.

_Remember the Ghost Machine._

I know exactly what's going to happen, and yet I can't seem to move, frozen in the sea of people who are forced to push their way around me, grumbling or apologizing all the while. The girl, whoever she is, loses her balance and slips down onto the tracks.

Nobody seems to notice as a hand reaches up and grips the edge of the platform, wrapped up in catching the next train or keeping track of their family and friends in the crush of people.

The realisation of what I'm supposed to do hits me, and I run to the edge of the platform, trying not to trip over feet and small children as I dodge past people who now barely mean anything to me. I find myself kneeling on the concrete edge of the platform, looking down at the terrified girl. One arm is out behind her as she tries to get her footing enough to stand up. Her fingers slip from the platform edge, and I can see her visibly trembling.

"Grab my hand!" I call to her, and her head snaps upwards. Her eyes - a dark, deep green - meet mine, and she nods ever so slightly and reaches upwards as I hear the train start to rumble closer, a dazed expression on her face. Someone behind me sees the girl, and yells out. Shouts of _There's someone on the tracks! _echo out around me, although I hardly pay attention.

I lean forward and her fingers catch mine. I haul her to her feet, and although she's still standing on the gravel on either side of the tracks, she looks calmer than she had been before. Some people start to yell louder, in panic and in fear, so I look sideways down the tunnel, and her gaze follows mine.

I see a faint shine of headlamps, and snap my attention back to the girl.

"It's coming." she says, her voice oddly empty. She seems to be slightly in shock. "It's coming and I'm on the tra-"

I interrupt. "Come on!" I instruct her. "Jump!"

She nods, the same slight nod as before, and jumps. Her feet leave the gravel and I pull her upwards. She manages to get half-on the platform, obvioulsly so shaken that she can't get a better grip, and another hand grasps my free one. I look up to see it's the man with the map, and one corner of his mouth lifts slightly in a half-smile, then he yanks so hard on my arm that it feels like he dislocated it.

It works, though. Everything seems to happen at once. I tumble backwards and the green-eyed girl tumbles with me onto the platform, and there's a bright flash of light and then the train's whooshing past. People stare down at me from the windows, then blur away as the train continues past and to the next stop.

I look around at the crowd that's gathered as the girl scrambles to her feet, seemingly more embarrassed than injured. Her friends swarm in from the sidelines and huddle around her, laughing and crying at the same time, repeating what I can only assume is her name,

_You idiot. What were you thinking? You scared me! Melody, you're such a-_

My attention wanes at the name. Melody?

Suddenly I remember the little ghost girl, and search the crowds on impulse. I see a pale, almost translucent face in an empty space, framed by a blonde bob that's matted with blood. She catches my eye and smiles out at me, then waves. She turns and begins to walk away.

"Melody!" I try to yell, but the words come out more as a quiet question.

One of the girl's friends, who was stood beside me, looks at me oddly, tilting his head. He looks younger than the rest of them, and shares the girl's dark hair and vibrant green eyes. I assume he's her younger brother."Melanie." he says, and I guess that she's referring to the green-eyed girl. "Her name's Melanie."

I barely pay attention to him, or Melanie, or the various other people gathered around us. Instead, I stare into the crowd of people as the blonde bob and bloodstained pinnafore vanish into the crowd of people. And I know that somehow, somehow, I did what she wanted me to do.

**Author's Note:**

**Yes, I know that none of the canon characters have been mentioned yet; but they will. Have faith...**

**I also published this to Wattpad before I discovered , then when I made an account on here I realised it was a perfect opportunity to use one of my old stories on here. This wasn't originally going to be any longer than this, or include any canon characters, but was just going to be based around the idea of the Ghost Machine (because I love the idea and it's one of my favourite episodes. Random Shoes being my ultimate favourite...)**

**~livyceegee**


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